


Of Basketball and Slow Developments

by orphan_account



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Canon Divergence, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Rakuzan!Kouki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 21:20:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2203473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being part of Rakuzan's basketball club is difficult enough in itself, but being singled out by Akashi Seijuro to be specially trained only makes it harder. Especially when one is living on half a serving of plain rice a day and the team doesn't care for much except winning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Basketball and Slow Developments

One-on-one training sessions with Akashi were the bane of Kōki's existence for more than one reason. To begin with, Akashi was difficult beyond comprehension when he got into one of his moods, which was being perfectly expressed at that very moment when he insisted that Kōki could not leave until he had managed to pass him.

“You've got to be kidding.”

He pursed his lips, and if it had been anyone else Kōki would have left immediately. He was _hungry_. Money had run short yet again this week (it wasn't because of books, never books, books were a necessity anyway) and he was currently living on half a serving of plain rice a day.

“I'm not kidding in the slightest, Furihata. If you don't pass me then you'll stay as long as it takes you to.”

“I doubt even you're immortal, Akashi-san.” The mutter was quiet; he was too scared to say it out loud directly to Akashi.

From his displeased look, Kōki could have sworn that he might as well have shouted it. How in the bloody hell had he heard  _that_ ?

“If you keep on going like this you won't be leaving until you pass me and score a layup.”

Which, with Akashi watching him like a hawk and not showing that he was finding this particularly difficult, would be impossible. Kōki took a breath, caught the basketball that Akashi threw at him, and went full-out.

-

It was strange in the first place that Akashi had decided on Kōki as his personal pupil. What Kōki found embarrassing about it was that Akashi was not much taller than him, was also a month younger and hadn't been playing basketball as long as Kōki had. Then again, Kōki had never been in a good basketball club until he got his scholarship for Rakuzan. Akashi had decided to take Kōki under his wing after seeing how particularly stubborn he'd been against Hayama once (in all honesty, Kōki had just wanted him to shut up or at least stop bouncing for a moment) and after every practice, he now stayed an extra hour and was tortured by Akashi. Whenever Kōki insisted on knowing why, Akashi would answer that having people who were as stubborn as Kōki on his team, as well as particularly brave, was as valuable as someone like Mibuchi or Hayama, who were excessively talented.

“ _And anyway,”_ he'd continued, narrowing his eyes in concentration as he placed a piece on the shogi board. _“Mayuzumi-san is leaving at the end of this year, and you're a suitable replacement. I want you on the bench by the middle of our second year.”_

“You do realise I'll have to play against your old teammates?” he said in the locker room after practice, having managed to pass Akashi successfully once (which lasted about three seconds before he caught up) and promptly collapsed on the ground begging for no more.

Akashi, his skin tinged slightly pink from the searing hot shower—which he always insisted on no matter how many times Kōki and Mibuchi told him it wasn't good for his health, buttoned up his shirt. “Yes.”

“Some of the best basketball players in the country.” Kōki towelled his hair and gave it a horrified look in the mirror before hastily flattening it.

“In high school basketball.”

“I've seen them before, Akashi-san. In _all_ basketball.”

Akashi smiled, slightly fondly, and put his jacket on. “You have some of the best basketball players on your team.”

Kōki was still unconvinced, and water from his hair was still dripping down his back no matter how many times he attacked it with the towel.

“Furihata, your job will be to retrieve the ball and pass it to the most appropriate person, and to block passes. We can handle the rest.”

“Half the time I miss a shot when there's no one marking me,” Kōki said, slightly morosely but also finding it strangely humorous.

“I know,” Akashi said. He sighed when Kōki put a hand to his mouth to muffle laughter.

-

He took great pains to avoid people from the basketball club when he was going about his normal life at school, so when Mibuchi appeared next to him he saw his entire life flash before his eyes (most of the girls were looking at him in jealousy, which worried him. Girls could be so scary). Mibuchi swung an arm around his shoulder and started dragging him away, ignoring his struggles and yells. They ended up on the roof, Kōki feeling rather like he'd been bound, gagged, and taken at gun-point.

“Why don't you join us, Furi-chan?” he said, pointing to the group of three sitting a few meters away. Nebuya and Hayama gaped at him for a moment, probably due to his red face and rumpled clothes and the stark difference between Kōki's grumpy expression and Mibuchi's wide smile. Akashi was sitting regally watching in interest but completely unflappable.

“Hey... hey, look,” Hayama said, patting Akashi's arm. “Reo-nee's found himself a new virgin sacrifice.”

“What?” Kōki said. Mibuchi's grip tightened on him as he tried to struggle away.

“Don't say nonsense. Furi-chan might not be a virgin.”

Nebuya choked, Hayama burst into peals of loud laughter and Akashi turned his face away, smirking as Kōki blushed bright red. “I... I... please let me go.” There was no way he could answer that without looking like a fool, but Mibuchi still dragged him over. He resigned himself and started settling next to Nebuya, until Mibuchi shook his head. “What?”

“He'll steal your food when you're not looking.”

Nebuya lifted his head. “Huh?”

“Your safest bet is sitting next to me,” he continued with a wink, patting the space between him and Akashi.

“Did you say something about me?” They ignored Nebuya, who shrugged and went back to shoving rice down his throat with impressive speed which immediately put Kōki off his own rice. He sat between them, inching away when Mibuchi kept on staring at him with a little smile.

“Reo,” Akashi said.

Mibuchi beamed at him. “Yes, Sei-chan?”

“If this conquest is successful, please avoid the locker room for your sexual exploits. I don't much feel like my innocence being shattered more than it already has.”

Mibuchi seemed half-way between being mortally embarrassed and rather proud of himself, and winked in Kōki's direction, who immediately darted the other side of Akashi. Nebuya choked again and Hayama's mouth dropped open.

The door opened again, and as soon as Mayuzumi saw the group on the roof he dropped the books he had in his arms.

“You're late, Chi-chan.”

Mayuzumi's only response was an expletive.

“Don't be like that, Chi-chan.”

He gave a look to Akashi which would have had Kōki quivering. “I told you _not_ to tell them where I went.”

“You knew where he was going at lunch and didn't tell me, Sei-chan?”

“Wow, Reo-nee, how long has it been since you got laid to be chasing after two guys?” Hayama said. Kōki squeaked and ducked further down behind Akashi.

Mayuzumi rolled his eyes and picked up his books before going to the other side of the roof, promptly being dragged back by Mibuchi, who was scolding him by tapping the small of his back. “You're a menace, Mibuchi.”

“I am,” Mibuchi lamented, sighing loudly.

“Just ignore them,” Akashi said. Kōki nodded and shrank down as much as possible.

-

Kōki was thankful that there was no practice that evening, after being particularly embarrassed by a certain conversation brought up by Mibuchi about who would top whom (Kōki hadn't even understood until halfway through what the term meant) and after loudly proclaiming that he would never let anyone top him, turned to a seemingly nauseated Mayuzumi and put his chin on his hand and said, “But I'd let you top.” Apparently that had been the final straw for Nebuya, who left the roof immediately. Hayama's smile from when Mibuchi had said he had a cute butt had frozen into place and Mayuzumi had pointedly lifted the book he was reading so it blocked out the rest of the team. Akashi had seemed rather startled by the choice of conversation and, Kōki was willing to bet, peeved that Mibuchi had insisted he would never top. Feeling rather put off food for probably the next decade, Kōki studied in his room and tried to block out the thought that he might be put through the same torture the next day.

Avoiding them all during lunch was difficult, but he managed to do it by eating at top speed and then sitting under a table in the library lamenting his woes to Fukuda by text (who had, in fact, found it all incredibly hilarious). Mibuchi bombarded him as soon as he regretfully entered the locker room that evening by clutching his shoulders and saying that he thought Kōki had _died_ , and didn't he know how awful it would be to lose someone so cute?

Akashi apologised to him just before practice started, though from his smirk was finding the entire situation quite amusing. “Reo oversteps boundaries a lot. But he won't bother you as much if Chihiro is nearby.”

“Did you really walk in on him in the locker room?”

Akashi's face twisted slightly. “Yes. Him and a third year a couple of weeks ago.”

The practice with Akashi after was brutal, and once again Kōki was only allowed to leave once he managed to pass him. In the shower after, he felt Akashi's eyes on him and looked over his shoulder.

“I've noticed that you've been losing weight.”

Kōki looked down at himself and pulled a face. It was true; his ribs were a lot more visible.

“I can't really afford to buy more food than I already do.”

“You can't?”

Kōki turned off the shower and shook his hair out. “I'm a scholarship student.”

“I'll bring something on practice days.”

“No, Akashi-san, that's—”

“A captain's responsibility is to look after his team.”

Kōki ducked his head, blushed when he realised that they were both still rather naked, and got his towel.

-

Mibuchi caught hold of him during a Saturday practice, ruffling his hair to catch his attention. “Sei-chan wants to see you, Furi-chan.”

“Oh, thank you, Mibuchi-san.”

“I've told you to call me Reo-nee,” he said with a wink, stroking Kōki's arm.

“Ah, I should... where is he?” Mibuchi led him to a room which Kōki thought was empty, until, in the only corner which the sunlight was not hitting, Akashi was frowning at a shogi board, his hand hovering over it.

“Akashi-san?”

“Come in. Do you know how to play?”

“Play?”

“Shogi.”

“Not very well.”

“I don't expect you to win.”

He set up the board again and motioned at Kōki to start. Inadvertently playing himself into a block, so distracted by Akashi as he was, Kōki's leg jumped nervously.

“Y-you wanted to talk to me?”

“Ah, yes. You'll be a starter for the next game.”

“What?”

“There's no need to be nervous.”

“I'm not nervous.” The lie was apparently rather transparent what with the look that Akashi gave him.

“It's against Yosen.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” he said without thinking before clapping his hands to his mouth and apologising. Akashi raised an eyebrow and placed the winning piece on the board.

“But... are you sure? It's an important game. I'm sure you can pick up the slack but—”

“I won't be playing unless we run into difficulties.”

“But it's Yosen!”

Akashi looked at him and Kōki shrank back into his seat. He could be so scary sometimes when it came to basketball.

“I suppose I should apologise in advance.”

“The others are more than capable, I assure you.” Having set up the board again, he observed the pieces in his hand. “You should go back to practice.”

“Uh... yes.”

He allowed himself one last look at the captain before he shut the door, looking out the window as if there was something he yearned for just beyond it. Still in shadow, he seemed smaller and younger than Kōki had ever seen him.

-

Although they had won and Kōki had managed to stay on court the entire game, he didn't feel all that much joy for it. He forced a smile when Mibuchi put an arm around his shoulders and Hayama started bouncing incessantly. He supposed it was the aura whenever they won a game. It wasn't happiness, but relief. All he could see from his team mates was relief.

“You did well for your first game.”

Startled by the sudden appearance of his captain, Kōki jumped and dropped his water bottle.

“I did throw you in at the deep end, but at least you know you can handle it.”

He didn't seem happy about the win either. Kōki looked at him, feeling his mood sink further. “Yeah.” Akashi turned to leave, but stopped when Kōki took hold of his sleeve. “You... enjoy playing basketball, right?”

Akashi's expression was odd, slightly pained, seeming slightly confused, almost. “I do enjoy it,” he said slowly.

Kōki had distinct impression he was just saying what he thought should be said, but didn't stop him when he walked away.

-

He gave up on avoiding the team when Mibuchi found his hiding places four days in a row, every time putting his arm around his shoulders—or in one particularly harrowing incident that made Kōki jump out of his skin and run away at top speed, slap his behind—and dragging him to the roof, where an increasingly irritated Mayuzumi sat in the corner and the others marginally more cheerful. So the next time he saw Mibuchi approaching, he resignedly followed him up to the roof.

“What are you reading, Chi-chan?” Mibuchi asked as soon as the door opened, going up to him cheerfully as Kōki squeezed in between Akashi and Hayama; actually the safest people to sit next to. Akashi automatically tossed him a rice ball as Nebuya stared at them.

“You got yourself a wife, Furihata?”

“Yes, we were married last weekend,” Akashi said dryly. Hayama dropped his chopsticks as Nebuya furrowed his brow; it wasn't often that Akashi would be sarcastic.

“I didn't get any invitation,” Mibuchi said. Mayuzumi looked as though he was contemplating throwing himself off the roof.

-

Although he wasn't in any more games, Kōki still found it excessively uncomfortable to watch the matches. Victory was always certain and didn't seem to hold much meaning even after everything they did. He could remember his team in middle school, winning one game in five, and the celebrations afterwards. A weekend when he was back home and visiting family, he went to one of Fukuda's games, managing to catch the last half. The difference was stark; although they won easily, the entire team celebrated. The relief of winning was nothing compared to the joy of playing basketball.

He'd alerted Fukuda, so when the game was over he waited, running the parts of the game he'd seen over in his mind.

“Furi! Glad you could make it,” Fukuda, running from the larger group from his school with Kawahara in tow, seemed particularly happy even though he hadn't played in the game. He drew to a halt directly in front of Kōki, frowned and put his head to the side. “What's wrong? You look like you're in pain.” Kawahara was also looking at him in concern.

“You two love basketball, right? Even if you don't play, you're still happy to win and just be a part of it?”

They looked at each other then back at Kōki. “Well, yes,” Kawahara answered.

“Yeah, you don't have to be one of the starters of the best high school team in the country to enjoy basketball,” Fukuda added.

Kōki smiled and shook his head. “I think my team is killing it for me.”

He hadn't meant to go straight into his woes, but Fukuda and Kawahara didn't comment on his abruptness, instead motioning to the rest of the team to go on without them.

“So, what, you need a reminder?”

“I don't really remember why I play anymore. It's a sense of duty now.”

Kawahara opened Fukuda's bag and took a basketball out. “Then let's go play some one-on-one.”

-

It was when Kōki was making his way back to his parent's house, feeling more at ease after having beaten both of them even when they were double-teaming him that it dawned on him just how much he was starting to dislike Rakuzan. Mibuchi texted him a couple of times, asking him what he was doing and whether he'd seen his blue sweater, of all things, and it all crushed him down at once that he would have to go back.

“Kasan,” he said as soon as his mother opened the door to him. She seemed startled by his expression. “I'm sorry. I just can't stay at Rakuzan.”

-

The next private practice with Akashi was awkward, at least for Kōki. He was unwilling to explain what exactly he had decided whilst back in Tokyo; that at the end of the school year he would be transferring to Seirin. Akashi noticed that something was wrong, but didn't comment on it other than asking whether he'd slept and eaten enough whilst away and then watching him carefully for a few minutes until Kōki started glowering at him.

“Your posture's wrong for shooting,” he said suddenly.

“O-oh?” He could feel himself blushing and looked away when Akashi narrowed his eyes at the reaction.

“Instead...” He took hold of Kōki's hips, pulling him back against his body. Kōki gasped out loud at the sudden movements, his knees shaking. This... this was awkward. And with the way Akashi was holding his hips, saying in a low voice that how he was standing was increasing his reaction time, he could almost imagine that... no, that was ridiculous. He cut the thought off, thinking rather of Akashi's words, not how their bodies were maddeningly close to each other, how he could almost think that the way Akashi's hands were curving over his hips was possessive. “Use your thighs more,” he added. Kōki's eyes widened and he jumped when one of Akashi's hands slipped down and instead settled between his thighs.

“Akashi-san—!” He broke off when Akashi bit his neck gently and almost melted against him. _Dammit_ , this was too sudden. Since when had Akashi decided on _this_? “W-wait a minute...” When Akashi turned him around he let the basketball drop. It was a stupid thing to think—it wasn't as if he was a part of some crappy shoujo manga—but Akashi's eyes looking at him so intently were beautiful. And when he kissed him, he felt weak enough to fall had Akashi not been holding him. He almost told him to stop, but like _this_ he couldn't think straight enough to work out how to form the words. Akashi was pressing into him, the way he was holding him was almost desperate. A couple of minutes after—not nearly long enough—he pulled away, leaving Kōki with a lingering taste of mint and green tea, stepped back, and continued the lesson as if nothing had happened.

-

Kōki spent close to an hour doing nothing more than staring at his phone expecting Akashi to text him and explain what exactly had happened,  _why_ exactly it had happened, and whether there would be any repeats on some sort of official outing which could or could not resemble a date, but nothing cropped up on the screen. He resolved that if at nine in the evening he hadn't called, he would call himself, but nine came and went with Kōki picking up his phone and putting it straight back down again when he got chills up his spine. Finally, when it was closer to eleven, he called Fukuda.

“You better have a good reason for calling so late,” he said instead of a greeting.

Kōki refrained from commenting on Fukuda's rather childish sleeping habits. “I just need to ask you something.”

“Yeah?” he said with a sigh.

Kōki intended to start talking, but froze. What  _could_ he say? That Akashi had kissed him? That was too embarrassing—even over the phone. Just thinking about admitting it was making him blush too much for it to be healthy.

“You still there, Furi?”

“Yes!”

“Well then?”

His free hand nervously drumming on his desk, thinking that he would rather like to hide under his bed and not emerge until the next natural disaster, he bit his lip hard. “It's just that... someone, uh, kissed me and seems to be ignoring me now.”

“Oh?”

“And I don't really know what to do.”

“Sure it wasn't a mistake?”

“Fukuda.”

“Do you know her?”

Kōki winced at the pronoun. That was another thing; he was  _straight_ . “Quite well, I think.”

“Do you have her phone number?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you talking to me about it? Call her and just ask.”

“Ask _what_?”

“About her opinions on our current political party,” he said sarcastically. “About why she kissed you, idiot.”

“It's not as simple as that. This person... well, they're completely different. Nothing is ever a mistake with them, but at the same time it could have been nothing more than an experiment because everyone bows down to their wishes anyway.” He looked glumly out the window at the sunset behind the buildings. “And what could I do if I decide I like them? I'm leaving Kyoto at the end of this school year.”

Fukuda was quiet for a moment. “But we stayed friends even though we live three hours away from each other.”

“This person has a lot more responsibilities than we do.”

He waited for Fukuda's response, hoping that he would say one thing and everything he had to do would be crystal clear. “Furi...” Kōki held his breath. “Forgive me if I'm wrong, but are we talking about Akashi here?”

Kōki froze. “What?”

“Did Akashi kiss you?”

Kōki considered putting the phone down and hitting it repeatedly with a hammer. “I... no!”

“You're lying.”

“It doesn't matter who it was! Just tell me what to do.”

“I can't help you, Furi. If it was a girl, my advice would probably have ended up with you getting slapped, but with Akashi I have no idea whatsoever.”

“But—”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Not in the slightest!”

“You're lying again.”

-

Hanging up didn't help whatsoever, because Fukuda just sent text messages the entire night, and every time Kōki dove on the phone, wondering whether Akashi would finally deign him with an explanation. When the next day came and Kōki had had about half-an-hour of restless sleep as the sun rose, there still had been nothing from Akashi, and he dragged himself to school resembling some sort of zombie rather than an actual human being. Battling his way through to practice and considering how to turn up without making a fool of himself under Akashi's unyielding gaze, he forgot his usual lunch arrangement until he walked out of his classroom to Mibuchi waving at him.

“I really want to eat by myself today, Mibuchi-san.”

“Reo-nee,” he said automatically, his arm settling around Kōki's shoulders. “And don't be silly. Eating by yourself is so dull.”

“I have a book with me.”

“Then you can sit with Chi-chan in the antisocial corner. Just... don't look over his shoulder. I have a feeling he's reading ecchi stuff.”

Kōki struggled uselessly but was still dragged to the roof. He looked down to the ground, peeking at Akashi through his hair as he settled between Nebuya and Hayama before Akashi caught him looking and raised an eyebrow, at which Kōki looked everywhere but at his captain. Ah, Mibuchi had been right; from the cover, what Mayuzumi was reading definitely seemed like ecchi.

“I was thinking I could invite someone else to sit up here with us,” Mibuchi declared. Mayuzumi lowered his book.

“I refuse.”

“You refuse?”

“I do. You didn't ask my permission for Furihata, and I'm not letting you bring someone else up here.”

“But he's cute!”

“What makes you think that would persuade me?” Mayuzumi shook his head and lifted the book again. “This place used to be so calm before Akashi came to this bloody school.”

Hayama watched with wide eyes as Mibuchi delicately ate whilst also watching avidly. Akashi's eyes narrowed in Mayuzumi's direction. If it had been Kōki, he was pretty sure he would have bolted. As it was, he still shivered. “I resent the implication that  _I_ cause the noise.”

“You disrupted the calm by bringing that lot.” He gestured in the direction of the group.

“You should treat your team nicer, Mayuzumi-san,” Hayama chirruped. Mibuchi scolded him for talking with food in his mouth and shrieked when Nebuya brandished chopsticks in his direction. Akashi's eye twitched, and he sighed heavily.

“I admit they are quite loud.”

He finished by tossing a rice ball in Kōki's direction, who fumbled when he caught it but didn't drop it. Before unwrapping it, he blushed. “We're having extra practice today too?”

Akashi frowned. “Of course,” he said, as if anything else was preposterous. “Why wouldn't we be?”

“No reason,” Kōki lied.

-

He couldn't help but think that there was something rather odd with the situation when Akashi's hands were on him a lot more than really necessary; physically correcting his posture when before he would have just told him, standing closer than he needed, talking with a low voice in his ear instead of normally.

“I told you yesterday to use your thighs more,” he ended with, standing behind Kōki close enough that his back was against Akashi's chest. Although Kōki pretty much knew what was coming, the hand on his thigh still made him jump, and he shut his eyes tightly as Akashi spun him round to kiss him again.

“ _Wait_ ,” Kōki said desperately, turning his face away, any comprehensive thought rushing out of his head when Akashi kissed his neck instead, arms entrapping him so he couldn't step back. “What are you...?” Akashi let go abruptly and stepped back, seeming rather amused when Kōki's legs gave way and he fell onto the floor, half catching himself with his hands and springing up again as soon as he was able.

“As I said, your reaction time will decrease if you use your thighs more, and your stamina will increase slightly.”

Kōki held the basketball tightly, unmoving and waiting to see what Akashi would do. Apart from a wicked grin, nothing. “Have you had enough?”

“E-enough?”

He must have imagined the way Akashi was looking at him, eyes dark and rather resembling as if he would like to devour him. “Enough of basketball for today.”

“No!” Kōki didn't know what would happen and didn't much want to find out, especially if he wished to remain unaffected by being in the gym as long as he remained in Rakuzan. And anyway, he had no penchant for doing such... things in public.

“Then try to pass me,” Akashi was suddenly business like, his entire aspect cool and distant once more.

He seemed to be as changeable as the sea.

-

When his phone buzzed that evening, he almost had a heart attack until he saw it was just Fukuda. He answered warily.

“Did you talk with Akashi?” Fukuda was straight to the point.

“No!” Kōki insisted. “And what do you care anyway?”

“It's an interesting social experiment,” he answered calmly. “Was he acting any differently around you today?”

“No,” Kōki replied, disgruntled.

“He seems like an odd person.”

“He is,” Kōki said, ready to become downright livid.

“Don't get angry; I don't want to be caught in the cross-fire.”

“He's an absolute jerk,” Kōki said angrily.

“Too late,” Fukuda sighed. “What, did he kiss you again?” When Kōki didn't answer, he laughed. “That's unfortunate. How is he at kissing, by the way? Out of interest.”

“What kind of interest?”

“In the interest of helping you decide what to do.”

Kōki touched his lower lip. It tingled when he thought about the kiss, as if something beyond the intellectual was yearning for it. “He's... I suppose.”

“Hmm.”

“But it's not like I have any experience in kissing men.”

“I can't imagine it's all that different.”

“Well, he's taller than me. It does feel a little odd.”

“If you ask him by text you can spend more time thinking about how to word it,” Fukuda said suddenly.

“I suppose.”

“You're not angry anymore?”

Kōki took a long breath in and exhaled, closing his eyes and feeling particularly exhausted. Come to think of it, he hadn't slept well last night. Not that he could expect to sleep much better tonight. “No.”

“Good. It's not good to go to sleep angry.”

“It's just that... I'm not gay. I don't think I'm even bi, it's just like...” He opened his eyes again and leaned forward to put his forehead on the cold glass of the window. “It's as if Akashi is an exception. But I don't know whether he's just playing with me or using it as a ploy to make me more bendable to his will; he could be doing it to everyone else on the bench for all I know.”

“Sleep on it,” Fukuda said.

Kōki tried to obey, but the next morning he still hadn't decided what to do. Lunch was still just as awkward for him, though nobody else seemed affected; Akashi least of all. Mayuzumi continued being in an excessively bad mood, Mibuchi and Nebuya argued about the exact nutritional requirements of a high-level sportsman as Hayama looked between them, saying ' _Fight, Reo-nee!'_ every time Reo paused. Akashi sat serenely, and, from his expression, was rather bored.

“You've been quiet, Furi-chan,” Mibuchi said with a smile, putting his arm around Kōki's waist and getting much too close for comfort. “You agree with me, right?”

“I-I... about what?”

“About my theories that just eating more won't help build up strength.” Kōki shivered when Mibuchi's arm tightened around him. Nebuya disagreed loudly, lifting his arms to show his muscles. Almost by reflex, Kōki darted a look at Akashi, who was holding his chopsticks almost tight enough to snap them, glaring at Mibuchi as if handling Kōki was a personal offence. Directly behind him, even Mayuzumi was watching them narrowly, his lips pressed together and shoulders tense. Kōki shut his eyes tight, edging away until he let go, inadvertently moving closer to Akashi, who immediately took hold of his arm.

“If he doesn't enjoy your advances, leave him be,” he said. Mibuchi sighed.

“I'm just trying to make Chi-chan jealous.”

Mayuzumi lifted his book pointedly, but Kōki was rather convinced that it was only to hide the fact that he had started blushing.

-

There was no practice that evening, so Kōki bolted home as quickly as possible and started on the homework which had been building up the past two days. Later in the evening, Fukuda called for an update, at which Kōki mentioned instead the strange behaviour between Mayuzumi and Mibuchi.

“Is there something in the air in Kyoto or something?”

“What?”

There was a tapping from Fukuda's end of the line. “Well, it seems like you're all going gay or something.”

Kōki shook his head agitatedly. “If you make comments like that I'm going to hang up.”

“No, no, wait. I need some help with biology.”

“I don't see why I should help you when you've done nothing but make me more uncomfortable.”

“Don't be like that...”

In the end, he helped, but only because Fukuda promised to think more about his own dilemma. He finished his own homework, lay back on his bed with a pillow over his face and considered sending a bomb over the mail to Fukuda when his phone rang again.

“What do you want now?” he answered, forgetting to check who was calling.

“Now? I believe this is the first time I've called you.”

“Oh! Akashi-san; I'm so sorry! I thought you were someone else.” That was it; he was dead. Akashi would never let someone being so rude to him slide. He was dead, he was dead...

But there was a laugh on the other side. Kōki slowly lowered the pillow from where he'd smashed it onto his face. “It's fine. I just wanted to tell you that we'll have to cancel practice tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Was he angry about the way Mibuchi had harassed him? Maybe he hadn't been convincing enough that he wasn't interested in Mibuchi's advances.

“I have some duties with my father's company. I won't be at practice at all, in fact. Reo will be taking over.”

“Oh.”

“Tell me if he bothers you again. He shouldn't when he's acting as captain, but be on your guard.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I... uh, is there anything else that you wanted to discuss?”

“Not at all.” He sounded amused. Kōki refrained from shouting at him in frustration. “Why? Is there something you wanted to discuss?”

And now he was just teasing. “Nothing,” Kōki grumbled.

“Very well. Goodnight, Kōki.”

He hung up before Kōki could respond, but he still kept the phone to his ear. He'd called him Kōki. It shouldn't be a big deal; he tended to call those in his team by their given name, and even let a 'Reo-nee' slip out now and then (Mibuchi always ended up ecstatic at that), but to hear himself being called that for the first time by Akashi caused nervous butterflies in his stomach.

-

He arrived at the rooftop when there was only Mayuzumi present the next day, looking over the school with his chin on crossed arms. Kōki sat in their usual spot, feeling slightly self-conscious. It wasn't that he didn't like Mayuzumi, but they hadn't been alone together before, and he always had this intimidating air of absolute confidence about him. Different to Akashi's; it was more of a confidence in himself than in other people. To Kōki, who had no confidence in himself and his abilities, it was terrifying.

“Would you tell me exactly what it is that's happening between you and Akashi?”

Kōki dropped his bento (thankfully the right-side up) and blushed when Mayuzumi turned to look at him. “Me and Akashi?” he asked slowly.

“You've been skirting around each other and you've been a lot more nervous around each other the past couple of days.”

“I... I hadn't noticed anything different with Akashi.”

He settled back to leaning on the roof. “It's not obvious, but I can see it. He's trying not to show it but he's definitely more nervous around you.”

Kōki tried to go through the past two days in his head, but still couldn't think of anything that would bring Mayuzumi to that conclusion. Except... maybe this all hung on how Akashi had reacted when Mibuchi had been particularly forward the day before? “How...? Uh, is this because of Mibuchi-san?”

“It's nothing to do with Reo,” he answered quickly. Kōki looked down.

“I was just thinking that you'd be happier if Akashi did like me in that way, because there's no chance of Mibuchi-san being so forward with me in that case.”

“Reo flirts with everyone.”

“But when it's me, it's a lot more obvious to you.”

Mayuzumi crossed his arms and his jaw tensed. “This is nothing to do with Reo,” he repeated insistently. “I was just intrigued.”

Hayama bounded up the steps and opened the door with a crash before sitting next to Kōki with a grin. “You will never guess what I got from the canteen,” he said, sounding mightily pleased with himself. The others arrived during his explanation of all the different sweet breads he'd seen and which ones he'd taken (everything with chocolate), but Kōki only half-listened, watching instead the way Mayuzumi watched Mibuchi from the corner of his eye and Mibuchi carefully avoided talking to him.

-

When the Winter Cup finally started and Akashi lightly said that Kōki would be playing in several of the games, Kōki had already tried to tell him multiple times that he wasn't staying after the end of the academic year. It terrified him to even think about saying the words, even if he dreaded going to the matches and go through every hollow victory as if it was only to be expected. He was jealous of Fukuda's excitement every time he called to say Seirin had won, and add happily that there was a good chance of Rakuzan and Seirin playing against each other. Winning against the Generation of Miracles, for him, was something to be happy about even if he had been on the bench the entire time.

Akashi kissed him twice more, before retreating completely and not mentioning it in the slightest, until Kōki wondered whether he had actually imagined it all. The lessons continued until Kōki finally scored against him, the day before the official commencement of the Winter Cup (though Kōki did wonder whether he played a little less hard than before to bolster his confidence). “I think you should play at least one game against an easier school,” he said. “If it gets difficult, I'll replace you but I think you can handle it.” Kōki said that he agreed and hid his face, still wondering why Akashi insisted on talking in the shower. And was he imagining it or could he feel Akashi's eyes on him, more intense than they really needed to be?

The next day they were travelling to Tokyo, Kōki rather irritated that a very excitable Hayama was sitting next to him for the four hour journey whilst Akashi and Mibuchi, a _lot_ more civilised, were quietly talking to each other at the front. He expected that it would be better when Hayama fell asleep, but he instead draped himself over Kōki, snoring loudly and mumbling randomly until, in the end, it was Mayuzumi who turned around in his seat and hit him over the head with his book to shut him up. The rest of the ride, Kōki had to try to convince a whining Hayama that it _hadn't_ been him who had been so rough in waking him up and when they finally arrived, it was only Kōki's respect for a senpai that stopped him from strangling Hayama.

Akashi disappeared for a while after the opening ceremony as Kōki hurried about the locker room with the others who were on the bench but not starters, sorting out the water bottles and towels, until a shriek from Mibuchi distracted him.

“Sei-chan, what happened to your _hair_?”

Startled by the sudden commotion, Kōki looked over to where they were standing, at Mibuchi patting Akashi's head and seeming horrified and Akashi seeming just as startled as Kōki by the sudden attention.

“What are you talking about?”

“It's _shorter_. You weren't gone that long; where did you find a hairdresser? Because they didn't cut it very well.”

Akashi glowered. “I did it myself,” he said, pushing Mibuchi's hands away. “It was just getting in the way.”

Mibuchi shook his head seriously. “Just come sit down and I'll clean it up for you.”

“Furihata-kun? There's still a few more bottles to be filled.”

Kōki jumped and tightened his grip on the box he was carrying. “Oh, yes! Sorry!”

With Akashi's routine of staying alone in the locker room just before a game, when Kōki went back to collect a couple of extra first aid kits which had been left in there, he walked in on Akashi sitting on one of the benches with his eyes closed, saying something almost silently under his breath.

“Sorry,” he said, feeling slightly awkward in the doorway. To be fair, he always felt awkward and jittery when he was alone with Akashi, wondering whether there would be a repeat of those kisses that he thought about _way_ too much.

“It's fine. Come in.”

It was the first time he had really seen how Akashi looked with his new haircut, and it only brought to mind that, for a teenage boy, he was exceedingly attractive. Somehow, the way Mibuchi had tidied it, it emphasised the different colours in his eyes and his high cheekbones, and had the effect of making him seem older. “That haircut suits you,” he said without thinking, and blushed when Akashi looked at him curiously, turning to the boxes and counting what was in them as quickly as possible.

Not quickly enough, though. Akashi approached behind him, his arms were around Kōki's waist and he kissed his shoulder as Kōki leant back against him. He didn't resist in the slightest when Akashi turned him around, met his eyes wordlessly, touched him almost reverently before kissing him. It wasn't desperate, filled with fire like before, and even after Akashi remained, his forehead leaning against Kōki's in a way that was a lot more comforting than anything else.

“Are we going to talk about what's happening at all?” Although he kept his eyes closed, he could tell that Akashi was looking at him.

Akashi tipped his chin up with a hand and kissed the corner of his mouth lightly. “What is there to talk about?”

It hurt, definitely, that Akashi was so blasé about it, and he let Kōki push him away to shut the first aid boxes harder than really necessary. “Well, of course, if you're doing it to everyone else then there's no need to talk. Just stop doing it if that's the case.”

“I'm not doing that to anyone else.” He seemed irritated.

Kōki turned to leave and paused halfway to the door. “Then why are you doing it to me? I have to know so I know how to feel about it.”

Akashi was expressionless. “I don't have a reason.”

-

The game won effortlessly and an obligatory cheerful text sent to Fukuda along with the message ' _It happened again_ ' (Fukuda would know what he meant), the journey back home was made difficult when Akashi instead sat next to Kōki as Mibuchi happily took a place next to Mayuzumi, who was grumbling about the arrangement but still seemed delighted to Kōki. Akashi went through the manager's notes on the game carefully with a red pen, asking Mibuchi (who was sitting the other side of the aisle to them and had his hand teasingly close to Mayuzumi's thigh) for his thoughts at regular intervals as Kōki surreptitiously checked his phone for messages from Fukuda. The trip ended with Akashi, most likely asleep, with his head on Kōki's shoulder as Kōki squeezed his eyes shut and pretended it was anyone but Akashi.

There was still no message from Akashi that evening, after the team debriefing and arrangements for extra practices, though Fukuda texted several times with 'advice'. Kōki slowly made his way through his homework, feeling melancholy as he was distracted by staring at Akashi's number and considering texting him to tell him of his departure from Rakuzan. Every time he had an idea of how to broach the subject, though, he'd forgotten it as soon as he built up enough confidence to pick up his phone.

It was even quiet on the roof the next day, and particularly cold. Even Hayama was still and quiet, his cheeks and the tip of his nose red as he wrapped several scarfs around his neck until he resembled nothing of a human, and more of a pug which was curled up next to a fire. It was the one time that Kōki didn't mind that Mibuchi had put an arm around him, because at least there was some extra warmth.

“Why exactly aren't we sitting inside?” Nebuya said when Hayama's teeth started audibly chattering even through his layers of scarfs.

Akashi, who had been to the side quietly talking to Mayuzumi, sent him an irritated look. “If you want to go in you can.”

Nebuya shrugged and left, closely followed by a shivering Hayama and a few minutes later, Mibuchi, after ruffling Kōki's hair and asking whether he was coming down (Kōki refused). Mayuzumi spent a moment looking from a glaring Akashi to Kōki, who was more puzzled than anything else before shrugging and picking up his bag to leave. Kōki blinked and bit his lip, shifting nervously before standing up.

“We should probably go in as well.”

Akashi didn't show any signs of moving. “Do you feel like doing a extra practice on the twenty-fourth?”

“Of December? Ah, I'm going home for Christmas. I'll be missing a couple of days of school too.”

“You're a Christian?” Akashi asked.

“No. My mother is half-European and grew up in Germany. It's just a tradition.”

Akashi approached as he was talking and Kōki trailed off, twisting his bag strap around in his fingers. He smiled, a slightly amused edge to it. “Well, merry Christmas, I suppose,” he said, leaning in.

Even though it was so cold, Akashi was still warm. It was only when Kōki pushed him gently back, remembering where they were, that he realised that it had started snowing.

-

The games continued going without a hitch, Kōki sometimes finding himself doing all he could to be alone with Akashi (from Akashi's amused looks in his direction, he was perfectly aware), even though at the same time he was remembering that before long he would have to tell Akashi of his decision to transfer to Seirin and his reasons. But he couldn't imagine Akashi's reaction being good, and under his undeniable, powerful attraction to him and growing feelings, he was still terrified whenever Akashi showed any hint of anger. There was something about him when he was angry that made it difficult to predict how he would react. His certainty in himself seemed to be due to stubbornness rather than any true self-confidence, his eyes would harden and Kōki couldn't help but imagine him plating his heart and mind with steel and concrete.

Kōki couldn't help but childishly wonder whether he could tear away everything that hardened him to the world if he stayed.

The final was against Seirin, and Kōki was jumping with nerves the entire way there, Akashi leaning gently against his shoulder as if he was trying to reassure him. After getting permission he phoned Fukuda and arranged to meet before and after the game. Fukuda saw him first and loudly shouted, “Oh, look, there's a bloody emperor,” in his direction before mussing his hair. “Although, you know what,” he added as the others from his team gave him wide-eyed looks and Kawahara joined them. “I think we have a chance to win.”

Kōki smiled good-naturedly.”There's always a chance. But I have a lot of confidence in my team.”

Fukuda ruffled his hair again until Kōki pushed his hand away and straightened it up the best he could without a mirror. “Has it been better, though?” he asked quietly.

Kōki crossed his arms over his chest and shivered. “Not much. Their reactions to winning are still the same as ever.” He was speaking as quietly as he could so only Fukuda and Kawahara could hear, and studied the pattern of the stones below him. “The only thing that's helping is that I'm transferring, but I still haven't told Akashi about that. I'm going to have to force myself to hand in my resignation form tomorrow or something.”

“You're not going to stay for the Spring Tournament?”

Kōki shook his head. “I'll focus on exams so there's no reason to be rejected from Seirin.” The forms he had to fill in to officially resign from the club were at home on his desk, completely filled out though it had taken several tries to do it. He could always hand it in to Mibuchi, but that would be cowardice.

“Furihata!” The booming voice from the other side of the court made everyone stop and stare for a moment, and Kōki shot a wide-eyed glance behind him to where Nebuya was standing with his arms crossed and legs slightly apart, looking around in an intimidating way. “Akashi's looking for you,” he continued.

Kōki nodded and waited until Nebuya went back to eating his riceball to say goodbye to a Fukuda who was pressing his lips together in an effort not to laugh. “He's looking for you, huh?” he said quietly. Kōki elbowed him in the ribs and jogged to the other side of the court.

Akashi emerged from a corridor as Kōki reached Nebuya. “Locker room,” he said. “I need to discuss something with you.”

Kōki followed him, suddenly nervous as to what it could be. “Uh... anything in particular, Akashi-san?”

“I think we should have you on hold to replace me in the second quarter—” He opened the door to the locker room but shut it immediately, looking back at Kōki for a moment. “You didn't see that, right?”

“See what?”

Akashi sighed, rubbed his forehead and hit the door with his fist. “Reo! _What_ did I tell you about the locker room?”

There seemed to be a commotion from the other side, and hushed whispers as Kōki felt himself starting to blush. “Really?” he squeaked. Akashi smiled, even though he still seemed irked.

“I'll talk to him about it again.”

“You can come in, Sei-chan!” Akashi opened the door slightly and checked around it before letting Kōki in. “Oh, you too, Furi-chan?” He laughed, darting nervous looks between the two of them. “I'm sorry.”

Kōki didn't especially want to look around, but in an attempt to avoid Mibuchi's eyes, caught sight of Mayuzumi with his back to them rummaging around in his bag, even though he was blushing so much that his ears had turned red.

“If you keep this up, Reo, you'll have to be off the team.”

“I'm really very sorry, Sei-chan. I couldn't help myself—” He stopped in his tracks when a book came flying at him from Mayuzumi's direction and Kōki covered his ears and closed his eyes. “Well, I have had a crush on Chi-chan for a while!” he insisted.

“Chihiro?” Akashi continued. Mayuzumi turned his head slightly.

“I don't have an explanation.”

“Keep it to yourselves. There are things I would really rather not see.”

“I'm really very sorry, Sei-chan. I don't mean to ruin your innocence.”

“Innocence,” Mayuzumi scoffed. He was composed again when he looked over his shoulder. “He doesn't have any of that. He and Furihata have something going on anyway.”

Kōki protested but stopped, his hands over his mouth, when Akashi put a hand on his elbow. Mibuchi looked at them both and smiled widely. “Really? You two?”

“No!” Kōki said loudly. Mayuzumi raised an eyebrow.

Reo frowned. “Sei-chan?”

“You heard him,” Akashi said in an emotionless way, abruptly letting go of Kōki's elbow. “Chihiro.”

“You were the one who told me to be observant,” he said with a shrug as Hayama and Nebuya came in. “I can't just switch it off when I want to.”

-

Akashi didn't look at him as they prepared for the game and the coach gave them a few last minute pointers, and all of it made Kōki exceedingly nervous. Even for the outcome of the game; Fukuda had been so confident in his own team's ability to win. And even though they were such a young team they had made it so far. But when he voiced his concerns to Akashi, he seemed unaffected.

“They are a strong team. They have Tetsuya, and though I'd rather not admit it, Kagami is a very talented player. But they'll still lose.”

He was right, of course. Even with Kōki playing in the third quarter instead of Mayuzumi, Rakuzan stayed ahead and finished with a ten point lead. They were relieved, but otherwise emotionless whilst Seirin were tearful, and Kōki couldn't help but long for the time that he would be on the side where a win and a loss in basketball really meant something.

-

“Why do you play basketball, Akashi-san?”

He'd been watching the passing countryside out of the window for a while, that expression that he got sometimes when he was pensive that something he longed for lay beyond the horizon, and turned to Kōki, his eyes strangely dull. “Why do I play basketball?”

Kōki nodded, bringing his legs up to his chin. Akashi frowned and took hold of his hand, lacing his fingers through Kōki's as his breath caught in his throat at the simple touch.

“Because I enjoy the simultaneous use of physical and mental acuity.”

“Not because you love basketball itself?”

Akashi, his eyes narrowing even though he was smiling, tightened his hand until Kōki couldn't have pulled away even if he had wanted to. “Not everyone has such sentimental reasons to play basketball.” But his smile was fixed, and when he turned to look out of the window again Kōki had the impression that he hadn't told the exact truth.

Well, it didn't matter. It wasn't as if Kōki wasn't keeping anything from him.

-

Kōki decided once Akashi had gotten comfortable enough to put an arm around his waist when they were on the rooftop that it was probably about time that he told him about the arrangements. So at their next practice he brought the forms in that finalised his decision to leave the club and wordlessly handed it to him at the beginning of what would have been the private coaching. Akashi took one look at it before looking at Kōki in shock. “Is this a joke?”

Kōki bit his lip and looked away before shaking his head. “I want to leave the club.”

Akashi watched him, his hand tightening on the paper.

“I want to play basketball because I love it, Akashi-san. I don't want to play just to win.”

“What's the point if you don't win?”

“Winning is just one part of it.” He closed his eyes to block Akashi out as best as he could. “I don't want to be like you and feel nothing but relief when I win.”

“I'm not saying that you have to become like me,” he said, still seeming confused and stubborn. “You can feel however you like when we win. But I didn't spend all this time teaching you for it to be a waste.”

He held the paper out to Kōki, who stepped back. Akashi seemed surprised at that, even a little worried. The way his eyes widened gave him the appearance of a child watching its parents walk away for the first time. He slowly lowered his hand, his expression steeling before he folded it neatly.

“Why do you play basketball then, Kōki?”

Kōki blushed when he remembered it, the idiotic reason he'd had to start with; to gain the attention of a girl, of all things. But that wasn't it anymore.

“I want to play it because I love it.” It wasn't the answer to his question, not really, but Akashi still seemed satisfied enough with his answer to not press further.

-

It was when he was home and had wrapped himself in several blankets and stuck his feet under his kotatsu that he realised he hadn't explained, or even told Akashi of his decision to leave Rakuzan. He picked up his phone ready to call him, but stopped. It wasn't right over phone. He would tell him tomorrow.

But the next day he found himself avoiding Akashi, and hiding in the library, explaining to Mibuchi that he had a few tests that he had to study for so he would be left alone, and it continued for the few weeks remaining until the only time he spoke to Akashi was a quick, polite discussion in the hallway when they ran into each other.

Akashi was cold. His eyes were looking over Kōki as if he was judging every little part of him, before meeting his in a bored manner as if he'd decided Kōki wasn't worth the trouble. It hurt, when what Kōki really wanted was to be confident enough in himself to explain everything to Akashi, including the way he couldn't stop thinking about him, how they were so strangely compatible and beyond a doubt they should be in a relationship. But with his mouth filling with cotton wool upon seeing him and his heart audible to his ears, he was too scared to make any such advance. Akashi, now, wasn't interested anyway. Kōki could imagine that he never had been.

-

He didn't receive any calls when he started the new academic year having moved back in with his parents in Tokyo and attending Seirin, and though he had known there would be a high probability of that happening, it still hurt. Fukuda was happy enough to have his friend back and introduced him to Seirin's basketball team. He hadn't entirely decided whether he would join the team, but the infectious love that the members had for the game was enough to light a fire in him, and over the months that passed he loved the game again. He kept an eye on Rakuzan's progress mainly by way of Kuroko, who had been in Teiko with Akashi and still kept in contact with him, and once he explained the situation, Fukuda a comforting presence next to him, Kuroko agreed to help keep them separate as much as he could.

“Although,” he added, looking away and frowning. “You could have handled it better, Furihata-kun.”

Kōki ducked his head. “I know.”

“Well, whatever,” Kagami said, standing next to Kuroko and looking down at him with an expression of both awe and trepidation. “He deserves all he gets, I say.”

“Kagami-kun,” Kuroko scolded, meeting his eyes with a rare expression of irritation. Kagami blanched.

“All I'm saying is that your ex-teammates are all jerks.”

Kuroko seemed weary when he turned his back on Kagami. It was the same expression Kōki had seen on Akashi countless times, and various times he'd seen the other Miracles. It was an expression that betrayed the burden they still carried, and the crown from their middle school days still heavy on their head and whispering in the wind behind their backs.

-

By the time the Winter Cup started, Kōki felt as if he had put Rakuzan, and Akashi especially, completely behind him. He was light-hearted, sitting next to Kawahara in the coach and Fukuda on the other side of the aisle as Kuroko was in front of them lightly berating Kagami for eating too much the day before, and Kagami countering with his usual insult—'Yeah, well you look like a dog, so...'—until Kuroko jabbed him in the ribs and refused to talk to him until Kagami had tugged on his shirt for a solid fifteen minutes and whined that he was getting bored. He caught sight of Rakuzan once at the opening ceremony, but by angling himself so he was hidden behind Fukuda, there was no real chance of them seeing him. The games started, and Kōki threw himself into practice with all he had. He wasn't a regular at Seirin—even though he would have been had he stayed in Rakuzan—and instead was put in when their regular point guard, Izuki, was too focussed on attack. He hadn't improved as much as he could have, no longer under Akashi's tutelage, and Izuki had spectacular court vision which Kōki couldn't possess no matter how much he practised it.

Hearing how Rakuzan breezed through their matches wasn't surprising, but Kōki still hoped that someone would beat them before Seirin had to face them. The final game approached relentlessly until it was the night before, and Fukuda was even worried enough about Kōki's increasing frequency of panic attacks that he called three times throughout the night and took the detour to his house so they could walk together.

“Don't you think you'll feel better once you've seen him and it's over and done with?”

“I was hoping to never see him again in my life,” Kōki said, staring at Akashi's number on his phone until his vision blurred.

Fukuda slapped his shoulder. “These things are always worse in your head. I promise.”

Kōki shook his head. “You know we were together? At the end. It had turned into a real relationship that we weren't doing much to hide from the others. But I still left without a word.”

Fukuda looked at him in concern but said nothing else.

The match was to start in the afternoon, but Seirin were there with plenty of time to spare, Kōki nervously darting from one job to the next and keeping a look-out for last year's champions. In the end, he didn't see them come in as Seirin had gone to the changing rooms for a full debriefing from Riko, who was even more terrifying and agitated than usual. By the time they made it out, the gymnasium was full of chatter about the emperors, and the all-too-familiar jackets were on the other side of the court. Kōki yelped and dove behind Kiyoshi, who, though he wasn't able to play anymore, still insisted on coming to all the games he could and was one of the biggest walls to hide behind.

“What's wrong?” he asked, startled, and jumped to the side. Kōki followed him.

“I don't want to see Akashi,” he said, his stomach filling with butterflies as soon as he said his name.

“I don't see him,” Kagami said. “But then again he's short so we might not be able to see him.”

Kōki, distracted for a moment, frowned at him, feeling rather offended himself (he guessed Kuroko was feeling the same when he jabbed Kagami in the side).

“Repeat that, would you, Kagami?”

It was worse than he had expected. Much worse; Akashi didn't look at him in shock or anger or lose any composure. Once Kagami had grumbled an apology his eyes rested on Kōki for no more than a second—probably due to the fact that he gasped and darted behind Kiyoshi again more than anything else—and then said, “I need to talk to Tetsuya.”

Kuroko looked at Kōki, his expression unreadable, and obediently followed Akashi. Kōki watched after him with a sinking heart but he didn't turn back.

“See? Not too difficult, huh?” Fukuda said.

Kōki forced a bright smile and shook his head. “Not at all,” he lied. Fukuda's eyes narrowed, but he nodded and watched him intently as if to force away his feelings.

-

He was sent out on the court at the beginning of the second quarter, and trembled as he never had before at the prospect. Riko, at her wit's end on how to deal with Akashi, had turned to him and even though Kōki insisted that he had only once managed to score against him she still countered and he found himself feeling as if he was walking to the gallows. Hayama smiled at him when he came up, before darting a look to Akashi whilst Mibuchi was gazing at Akashi from the beginning with a sad, faraway look. The second he managed to look at Akashi himself he was only met with a blank calculating regard until Kōki came to a stop next to him.

“I didn't teach you so that you could use it against me,” he said in a bored tone, even though his expression was anything but bored. Kōki flinched but didn't answer, keeping a careful eye on Kagami's whereabouts. Even with the talented first years that had joined after Seirin had been named second best in the country, Kagami and Kuroko still remained the centre of Seirin's attacks. “At least I know your weaknesses.”

Kōki gritted his teeth. “Don't flatter yourself. I've changed a lot since then.” It was a lie, but at least if it brought a bit of doubt to Akashi's mind he could use a moment of hesitation.

But with one look at his legs, Akashi shook his head. “You really haven't.”

In the end, the only points he managed to score was a single basket because Akashi was focussing on Kagami. He felt almost relieved when he was called off the court in lieu of Kawahara and sat next to Fukuda with a towel on his head.

“It'll be better for him to lose at least once,” he said, watching Akashi as he passed to Mibuchi. “I just want him to be passionate about basketball. He had to have been at some point to be so good at it, right?” Fukuda nodded silently. “But no matter how much I train, I'll always be below him. Some people are just luckier than others, I suppose.”

But he felt the lie in his words. Akashi wasn't lucky, was he? He was blessed with a lot, but all that had brought him was team mates instead of true friends and a withering passion for a sport that was becoming a burden.

-

The problems started at the end of the third quarter.

Kōki noticed his slight shift; he was playing faster. To anyone else, it would have been reckless but with Akashi's perfect control over his body it was simply that he moved one step quicker towards his goal. And then Kuroko managed to block him.

The shock he felt was obvious; Kuroko wasn't naturally gifted, held no skills for basketball other than his misdirection and his overwhelming love for the game. It was nothing compared to Akashi, who could see the future and read his opponents' plays, but the ball was knocked out of Akashi's hands and bounced neatly into Kagami's, as Akashi stood and stared blankly at the floor until anger won out and he caught up, ready to block Kagami.

Kōki wanted to run to him when he failed and fell to the ground. It became more problematic after that. Shaken by the fall and his failure, mistakes caused the ball to be stolen more and Seirin's score inched up to catch up to Rakuzan. The third quarter ended, and Kōki was distracted by Akashi, small and terrified on the bench, people talking over and around him, as he handed out water bottles and towels.

“If we manage to keep Akashi down like this we have a chance,” Riko said quickly. Kōki stayed quiet, though he wanted to protest against that. He wanted Akashi to lose, to really go all-out to try to win, but like _this_? “He might be subbed out, but that will impact the morale of the other players. Right, Furihata-kun?”

Kōki couldn't look at her but nodded. “Everything in Rakuzan is centred around Akashi's plays,” he said quietly.

His name was called from the sidelines, a voice he recognised, and he turned until Mayuzumi, leaning over the barrier, caught his eye. He repeated his name and beckoned him to come forward.

“Mayuzumi-san?”

“What's wrong with Akashi?”

Kōki couldn't answer and only shook his head, reaching out to try to stop him when he turned away and headed for the Rakuzan bench. Kōki wasn't sure what Akashi needed—had no idea what he was going through—but was pretty sure that Mayuzumi's penchant for saying what he thought and sparing nothing to how the other party felt could only make it worse.

“—hata-kun. Furihata-kun.”

Kōki jumped when someone prodded him. Kuroko was looking at him in concern, his hand raised ready to prod him again.

“What?”

“We have to win.”

Kōki forced a smile. “Of course,” he said, before his eyes trailed back to Rakuzan. Mayuzumi had reached them and Akashi had gone to stand next to him, his eyes closed as Mayuzumi spoke to him. Kōki watched, hardly able to stop himself from running up to them and tearing them apart. But after a moment, Akashi was opening his eyes, seeming confused even from Kōki's vantage-point, and looking up at Mayuzumi, who seemed just as confused and slightly horrified. Akashi finally nodded and calmly turned to walk back to the bench.

It may have been a trick of the light, but Kōki could have sworn both his eyes were red.

-

It was obvious that he'd gone through some kind of change. His playing was completely different; more considerate than Kōki had ever seen it before. They seamlessly stole points, always ahead of Seirin. But still, in the end, it wasn't enough to subdue Kagami, who always performed better at a slight disadvantage anyway.

Kōki joined in with the celebration and tried not to look in Akashi's direction, where he was looking at the floor with his eyes closed, shoulders tensed and looking smaller than Kōki had ever seen him before.

-

When the necessary arrangements had been done and Kōki could steal a moment for himself he asked Kuroko to cover for him and went to Rakuzan to tap Mibuchi on the shoulder in the hope of being discreet; which was void when Mibuchi shouted his name and hugged him, and Hayama quickly followed suit.

“Where's Akashi?” he asked when they quietened down. They exchanged looks.

“He went to our changing room, I think,” Mibuchi said.

Hayama nodded. “I'll take you there,” he said, grabbing hold of Kōki's arm and ignoring his protests.

“Hayama-san, I doubt he wants to see me!”

“Don't be ridiculous, Furihata!”

“Why would he ever let me— _ow,_ don't hold me so tightly!”

Hayama stopped outside a door, knocked on it loudly and winked at Furihata (seeming much too cheerful for someone who had just lost a game) before swinging it open and pushing him inside. Kōki was pretty sure he heard the click of a lock as he landed on the floor with a yelp.

“Furihata?”

Kōki, surprised at the use of his family name, looked up quickly and got to his feet, pretty sure that a bruise was forming on his hip. “I'm sorry, Hayama just...” he trailed off. Akashi's eyes were definitely both red. If he was perfectly honest, he wasn't sure which was more disconcerting. “He threw me in,” he continued.

Akashi gave a small smile. “I noticed.” He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Kōki couldn't work out if he was meditating or trying to sleep, and tried to quietly open the door, groaning and hitting his head against the wood when it didn't yield. He could hear snickering behind it.

“Hayama, just let me out.” His own kick was echoed back to him, and when he turned around Akashi was watching him silently. “I suppose I could go out the window,” he said.

Akashi shook his head. “He'll have to open it at some point anyway. You can sit next to me.”

“Uh... okay.” Kōki obeyed nervously, looking at him every few seconds as he stayed with his eyes closed.

He really was beautiful. His profile was almost flawless in a way that just wasn't fair. Akashi was someone that you never forgot, and Kōki could only imagine how plain and insignificant he seemed beside him.

His eyes opened and he looked inquisitively in Kōki's direction, catching his eye before Kōki blushed and turned away.

“I didn't congratulate you for the game,” he said suddenly.

“You don't need to do that,” Kōki answered hurriedly. Akashi shook his head.

“It's fine. Seirin did well.”

“But you...” Akashi looked at him and he bit his lip. “What did Mayuzumi-san say to you?”

“I don't recall.” Kōki tried to ignore that Akashi had started leaning on him. “But it made me realise...” he trailed off and took hold of Kōki's hand. “It was my mother who suggested that I start playing basketball. She wanted me to have something that was completely outside of my father's influence.” Kōki listened as Akashi's head dropped onto his shoulder. He almost wasn't breathing, pressing his cheek against Akashi's soft hair and trying to remember another time when he had mentioned his mother, but couldn't think up of anything, even though his tone now was so loving when he talked about her. “Until everything went wrong in Teiko, it was like a refuge. I lost myself when I lost that.”

Kōki tightened his hand around Akashi's and lifted it to kiss his fingers. There wasn't much he could do; he hadn't understood just what basketball meant to Akashi.  _ This _ Akashi, anyway. The one he didn't really know but instinctively wanted to protect above anything.

“Akashi-san—”

“Don't call me that,” Akashi whispered quickly.

Kōki looked down at him when his shoulder shook. “Seijūrō,” he said experimentally.

Akashi straightened up to look at him, only a couple of centimetres away.

“Is... is that okay?”

Akashi nodded, the type of smile on his face that Kōki had never seen from him before.

“We can try again, can't we?” he continued.

“I was going to ask you.”

It was different now; it felt different between them. Akashi was looking at him for permission, it would no longer be Kōki following where he led, being dragged along by something close to a force of nature rather than any real give and take from one to the other. For once, he was the one who was halting and hesitant.

So for the first time Kōki leaned closer and kissed him.

-

-

-

Although Kōki hadn't really spent all that much time on the court and still felt particularly anxious when having to talk in front of a group of people, Riko and Hyuuga still asked whether he could be captain the next year, and recommended asking Kuroko to be vice-captain. After wondering whether it was some kind of joke, or maybe a dream, he accepted. It had been something he'd entertained, after all, being captain. He'd just anticipated that Kagami would be instead; he was much more confident. He told Fukuda as soon as he saw him; a few minutes after walking out of the changing rooms and almost feeling faint with shock, and Fukuda told him that he had better take them to the finals again and win the Winter Cup two years running. He waited to tell Seijūrō after checking his phone to a message from him that he was free and could come down to Tokyo for the weekend. Their relationship being as it was, Seijūrō was walking around Kōki's apartment as if he was home, and it wasn't until he'd dragged Kōki to the sofa and they were tangled together for a few minutes that he said, “Will you be coming back to Rakuzan?”

It took a bit of coaxing before Kōki convinced Seijūrō to let go of him and straightened. “I can't now.” Seijūrō furrowed his brow, retreating slightly as if something was scaring him. “I was going to say; Hyuuga-senpai asked me to be captain next year.”

If his smile had anything to say about it, he was delighted, as well as calculating. Toying absent-mindedly with a strand of Kōki's hair, he kissed the corner of his mouth, pulling back teasingly as soon as Kōki started to respond. “Get to the finals again,” he said confidently. “I'll meet you there.”

Kōki caught hold of his hand and held it tightly, running the tips of his fingers over the calluses he'd gotten from hours of practice, the same as over his own palms. “You just wait,” he said, watching how Seijūrō's eyes brightened at the prospect of more matches. “Seirin will win again.”

 


End file.
